


Castiel Falls

by Tickette



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abused Castiel (Supernatural), Anal Sex, Cursed Dean Winchester, Cursed Sam Winchester, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Force-Feeding, Forced Ejaculation, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, Kidnapped Castiel (Supernatural), Loss of Angelic Grace (Supernatural), M/M, Magical Tattoos, Non-Consensual Bondage, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Runes, Sexual Abuse, Trapped, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22798843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tickette/pseuds/Tickette
Summary: After a witch hunt gone bad,  Castiel saves the Winchester and cares for them.   They in turn care for Castiel.   They want to keep him safe.   Their care is killing Castiel.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 71





	1. Witch Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> This is a brutal story that is graphic in a lot of ways. Read the tags and be warned.

Castiel knew he should have gone with the Winchester brothers that day. They had discussed the job calling in Castiel to get some information. There was something that was taking people every four to six months. Sam had found the pattern going back several years. The bodies were never found except the last victim, a man was out of his head wandering the forest just outside of town. The brothers were going to investigate and decided that they did not need the Angel. Castiel felt he needed to go.

“Dean - “ Castiel started to protest and to state his case again, but was cut off by Dean.

“Cas, this is a simple interview and scouting. If we need you we'll call.”

Castiel glared but acquiesced with a whoosh of air. He resisted the urge to watch them, trusting their word. Later that day, close to sunset he got a call from Sam, nothing was said but from what he overheard they were in trouble. The desperate noises caused Castiel to kick in extra speed. He knew where they were because they had given him several addresses they were going to check out. It was the fourth one on the list the Angel found them. When he arrived, the Winchester brothers were on their knees chanting something he immediately recognized as a type of binding spell. The loudest chanter was a woman on the other side with the room, she was tossing things into a bowl, oblivious to his entrance. A witch.

Castiel could do nothing for the Winchester brothers until he took out that witch. He dropped his Angel blade to his hand and attacked. She finally noticed him when he moved. Her concentration was split between the men kneeling before her and this tan blur powering towards her. She tried to cast a spell at the Angel, however Castiel was too fast for her. She died a split second later. The Angel dumped the bowl, snuffing out the smoldering contents. A few quick steps and he caught the Winchester brothers as they slumped. A hand on each and poof, they were all back at the motel room.

Castiel eased Sam to lean against one of the beds then picked up Dean. The laid the passed out man on the bed nearest the door as gently as he remembered he should. He then picked up Sam and did the same for him on the other bed nearest the bathroom. He arranged them the best he could, basically lying flat on their backs with their arms straight to their sides. The Angel surveyed the slumbering Winchesters. He knew he should do something more, but he was not going to undress them from their FBI suits, they got angry when he had suggested it on different occasions, though he did loosen their ties. With a tilt of his head and a frown on his face he then saw what was wrong. Castiel removed their shoes, he remembered that no matter how tired they were, they always removed their shoes, if nothing else.

That done he lightly touched Dean on the head. The eldest Winchester had some scrapes, bruising, and a fracture to his left tibia. With a flash of grace, Castiel healed Dean. He repeated the procedure with the younger brother and found the same except he had three broken fingers and a sprained right ankle. Another flash and Sam was healed. When Castiel could find nothing else, he stepped back.

Again he stood with his back to the only window at the foot of the beds and waited. The Angel did not want to leave the Winchester brothers alone and unguarded. What if the witch had followers? He would not leave them vulnerable. So he waited, watching over his charges. He included Sam in with Dean because there was no Dean without Sam. Castiel had learned that early on. 

The angel watched as the day darkened to night. He saw the moonlight illuminate the features of the eldest then the youngest. He watched as the room darkened to near pitch, although that did not hinder his sight. Neither Winchester moved not one muscle, other than to breathe, until close to six AM.

Sam woke with a low moan. Castiel turned to look at the brother directly. The tall man moved as if in slow motion. Hands on face, fingers in hair, then propping himself up on his elbows.

“Hello Sam.”

To his credit the younger Winchester did not startle. He just looked at the Angel and nodded. Sam maneuvered himself out of bed and mumbled as he shuffled to the bathroom.

“Hey, Castiel.”

The Angel remained where he stood even after Sam exited the bathroom to get his duffle bag only to return. He heard the shower, shortly after the tall man's return. His brother had still not moved. Castiel had pondered entering Dean's dream to find out what was going on but decided after the last time that would not be a good idea. Dean was not very receptive of that kind of communication.

When Sam came out of the bathroom for the second time he looked better and more refreshed. He was now dressed in a grey tee shirt and some faded jeans. He still shuffled but at least he was more awake. Sam made his way over to the coffee pot setting on the table directly under the window. Castiel turned to watch as the younger Winchester made coffee. He expected and finally got questions.

“What happened to us?” Sam's voice was still sleep gruff. He sat down and held his head in his hands for a moment before looking up at Castiel.

The Angel considered for a moment then sat down at the table with the tall man after a glance back to the slumbering form of his shorter brother.

“What do you remember Sam?” He tilted his head in inquiry.

Sam blinked then frowned. He shook his head then stood abruptly. He looked as though he were about to speak then shut his mouth. Finally he sat back down in defeat.

“I don't know. It's like I remember but I don't. I have images flashing through my head when I think back to what happened but then blank.”

Sam was frustrated and angry. He poured himself a cup of coffee and took a tentative sip, his frown told of the taste. Castiel pushed on with his questions.

“What is your last memory, Sam? What were you and Dean investigating?”

“Well, we found out that people going missing went further back than we originally thought, like decades. We were sent all over the town until we ended up at a diner. Um… Mabel's Deli Diner on Front street. I remember Dean ordering pie and coffee and I had ordered iced tea because it was so hot…”

Sam's voice trailed off and his eyes glazed over. He sat there for a full minute before he continued.

“Then I woke up here.”

Sam sipped his coffee mechanically staring out the window watching the sun come up over the horizon. Castiel frowned and tried to sort out the details of the information he was given. In the meantime, Dean woke with an audible groan. The two sitting at the table turned to the elder Winchester. He barely spared them a glance as he made his way into the bathroom. He snagged his duffle bag along the way.

The Angel made to speak but was silenced by the tall man. Sam simply shook his head and drank his coffee. Castiel squinted at Sam before he realized he wanted the Angel to wait for his big brother. Castiel nodded and waited.

Thirty minutes later Dean came out dressed in a black tee-shirt, a green plaid button down, and faded jeans. His socked feet made no noise on the dingy forest green shag carpet. He flopped down in the understuffed motel chair since Castiel and Sam had occupied the only two chairs at the table. Sam poured his brother a cup of coffee and handed it to him. Dean had the same reaction to the hot brew. Castiel broke the silence.

“Hello Dean.”

“What the hell happened? I remember waiting on our lunch then I wake up here? Why are we here and what's Feathers doing here?”

He looked at both just as frustrated, confused, and angry as his younger brother. Castiel ignored the nickname and answered.

“You were in trouble and Sam called me. Sam said nothing but I heard a struggle, you needed help, I saved you. A witch was chanting what I discerned as a binding curse and you two were chanting along with her. I killed the witch, brought you both back here, healed you, and then watched over you.”

Dean shook his head then asked a question that made him frown. “Healed us? What was wrong?”

Castiel explained each of the brothers injuries and relayed what he saw in the house where the brothers were being held. 

“I will return and report what I find. I will also bring back your car.”

Dean's head snapped up then rushed to the door. He flung it open to find a nearly deserted parking lot. Only a blue late model pickup and a rusted hatchback sat in front of two other rooms opposite theirs. 

“Son of a bitch!”

That was the last he heard before Castiel flew away. He found the house exactly the way he left it; the witch’s body still lay where he felled her. He took note of the herbs and collected her papers and books. There was surprisingly not that much stuff, even after searching the whole house. A small stack of yellowed paper with faded writing, three books, and a couple of shelves of various herbs and detritus witches used to perform their magic, curses, and hexes. He snapped a few pictures with his phone then put everything into Dean's car and drove to the motel.

He found the brothers in similar states and positions as he left them. Sam did have his computer in front of him and Dean was watching the news on TV. Neither stirred when Castiel entered, nor did they bother to greet him. Thinking nothing of it, he put the things he collected from the witch's house on the table by Sam then he got them food. 

The day was quiet and uneventful. The brothers poured over the information, occasionally asking Castiel some questions. He helped out where he could, returning to the witch’s house several times.


	2. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The brothers start their plan to care for Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things escalate quickly. Read the tags.

Castiel gasped trying to catch his breath, breath he shouldn't need. Over and over Sam and Dean kissed him. He clenched his hands into fists, jerking at the cuffs on his wrists. It was no use, the bonds were not coming off, plus the cuffs pulled at ropes tied to his ankles. The brothers had bound his wrists behind his back to his opposite ankles under the stained, understuffed motel chair, keeping him leaned back and sprawled out. If he had his full power he could fly away, at least break the chains of the cuffs. However, whatever sigils and runes Sam and Dean used on him were keeping him weak and dampened. 

One had him lip locked, forcing his jaw open, probing with a forceful tongue, roughly sucking. Castiel tried to pull his head back or to the side, but that just caused hands to be placed on either side of his head, fingers in his hair, keeping him in place. Hands roamed over his body, his tie was loosened and tossed over his shoulder, buttons undone and his shirt pushed aside, pants opened and shoved down his legs with his boxers, stopping at his knees because of his ankles being tethered at either side of the chair. Mouths switched, Castiel gave up trying to figure out whose was which, though his eyes were open, things were happening too quickly for him to keep up. Skin violated his body on places he knew should not be touched without consent. His protests fell on deaf ears.

He did not understand what had happened. The Winchesters had been up, talking, and eating. They insisted they were fine, however the Angel noticed both were on edge. Sam was on the computer researching constantly and Dean was reading the books and papers and writing. They talked about what they had found and how they had been overpowered. They spoke of what they could remember, of what the witch had chanted, which was not much. Castiel had flown back to snap pictures and see what he could find. He brought back the rest of the books and papers. Sam and Dean poured over the findings, comparing what they had with what Castiel brought. The angel kept them supplied with food and drinks. 

Though frustrated, Sam and Dean were healthy. Nothing pinged that something was wrong, though he should have guessed. They would stand too close, but the angel did not know this since he had not gotten the hang of personal space. They would put their hands on him, on his arm, shoulder, knee, back. He relied on others to inform him of what was proper, as they had in the past.

It was on the third day of the Winchesters stay, though Castiel missed that clue as well, that they ambushed him. The brothers rarely stayed in a hotel for this long without severe injury. 

Sam mentioned that they had a protective rune to mask them from witches. He and Dean were going to go after yet another witch and wanted Castiel to come along. So they insisted Castiel have it applied to his vessel. He tried to tell them he did not need such warding, but they were persistent. In the end he allowed Sam to draw the rune onto the back of his neck, where they said it had to be. The effects were immediate. 

  
  
  



	3. Subdued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean subdue Castiel for his own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter was a bit thin, so I expanded it.
> 
> Same warnings apply.

“Hold him down! Damn it!” screamed Dean as he frantically tried to wrap his belt around kicking legs. “Damn it!” He was kicked in the chest causing him to lose his breath momentarily. 

“I am! SHIT!” replied Sam wrestling flailing arms. He had his belt around one arm and chest but the other was doing a good job of shaking Sam loose, even in a weakened state. 

“Sam! Dean! Stop! What are you-“ Castiel tried to query amongst the melee. He was not wanting to hurt them, he pulled his punches, more defensive than offensive, he wanted them off of him. All questions cut off when Sam punched him in the jaw which not only stopped him but hurt as well.

“Done,” huffed Dean, hurrying to assist Sam with the belt. Sam held the waning angel while Dean buckled the belt. He did not really need to have it over the Angel’s arms but he did that for good measure. 

“Damn that was hard.” 

“What –“ Castiel tried again, confused and angry, and a bit scared. He was losing a battle with gravity along with his strength. He had no clue what the Winchesters used on him but it was working. The Angel was incapacitated. 

“Shhh, shhh, shhh, easy there,” Sam crooned softly, gently smoothing Castiel’s hair back out of his eyes. The brothers had laid him out on one of the motel beds. 

“You'll understand soon.” Sam smiled warmly as those blue eyes drifted closed.

“Sam I –“ 

They would not let him finish; frustration set in along with that trickle of fear. Castiel did not know what they were doing. 

_ Have they turned on me and are now going to deliver me to Heaven now that I am no longer of use? Had I not just saved them from a witch two days ago? _

He was knocked out of his thoughts when he felt a burning on his wrist. 

“Dude, get them right,” Dean ordered. He was holding Castiel’s right hand while Sam was drawing something on his wrist. Castiel noticed that the belt around him had glowing symbols. Sigils. They were using Enochian sigils to bind him, which is why he weakened so during their fight.

“Why?” Castiel asked quietly when they moved to his left wrist, the burning intensified.

Dean looked at him and said, “To keep you safe.” He had an odd look in his eyes that were echoed in his brother’s. Dean placed his hand on the angel's face, gently holding him. “Just relax and you will feel a whole lot better soon.”

That was not the answer he was expecting. Before he could ask them to explain, Sam put a finger to his lips. The move was not something he had experienced before but he knew it was to shut him up; that reference he did understand. He frowned at the action; he was confused yet again when Sam trailed that finger down his chin and to his throat. The belt was removed from his around his arms, however he was no less bound.

They removed his shoes and socks, he felt the same pain, his grace more diminished, and his legs were released. Castiel could not move. He felt incredibly tired, which was odd, he had felt exhausted, weary, but never just tired. He did not require sleep, so he did not really know how to categorize it. Not knowing he actually fell asleep, Castiel jerked awake when he felt them turn him over onto his stomach. A faint pain wrapped around his neck and down his spine. He felt weighed down and cold. Not a temperature cold, but an isolation cold. His brain, foggy and dull, could not focus on anything.

“I don’t… under… stand...” he whispered, unable to speak any louder, as he was rolled to his back again. The last thing he remembered was Sam and Dean smiling down at him, so satisfied and yet there was something else there, he could not think clearly enough to see.

Castiel woke sometime later groggy and leaden. He could not move and was startled to find out the reason. On either side of him were Sam and Dean. Both had wrapped an arm over his chest and a leg over his legs. It was one big dog pile on a bed that was too small for the three of them. He attempted to disentangle himself but was shushed by a gentle hand.

“Go back to sleep,” Dean whispered, stroking Castiel’s jaw. “You need your rest for tomorrow.” 

Too soon, Castiel succumbed.

  
  
  
  
  



	4. You will like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First rape. It's horrific.

Castiel's head was forced back by Sam pulling his hair. Sam kissed him, gently at first, then with more insistence when the angel did not cooperate. Castiel tried to shake him off but was held firm by his hair and Sam's other hand on his jaw. Castiel's mouth was forced open by Sam to deepen the kiss.

Castiel fought for air he did not know he needed. He felt hands on his chest. Dean was unbuttoning his shirt, loosening his tie more, undoing his pants. He was exposed, vulnerable. Normally he would have no issue, but their actions were wrong, their words were wrong. Something happened to them, he had to find out what. But in the meantime, he had to get them to stop. 

Dean's hands smoothed over his chest, something ghosted his nipples, soft and wet. No, he was being licked. He shook his head again in a futile effort to dislodge Sam. He growled in frustration but it came out as a whimper.

Sam finally pulled back giving Castiel a chance to catch his breath. Sam did not let go and his mouth roamed his face, trailing kisses. When he reached Castiel’s ear he whispered, "You taste wonderful." His voice was husky and low. Lustful.

"Sam, please," Castiel didn't intend to beg but he was at a loss. 

"Dean, stop." He tried to look down, but Sam still had him trapped.

"Just enjoy."

The sigils burned dully, a distant low grade sensation, still doing their job of keeping him weak and pliant. Castiel uselessly tugged at his bonds.

Dean kissed all over Castiel's chest, lingering at his nipples, causing his breath to hitch. Dean's kisses traveled lower.

"Dean no! This is not consensual!" 

He heard Dean chuckle but not stop. Sam captured his mouth again, his tongue invading. Sam slid his fingers through the Angel's hair, along his jaw, down his throat, and over his chest. He gripped the tie, straining on Castiel's neck. Their hands were violating him, touching places they should not. He moaned into Sam's mouth when Dean kissed his balls. 

Castiel's neck was burning, aching from being held back and the tie tightening. His mouth felt bruised, tongue swollen where Sam bit. Tears formed and leaked out of his eyes he had squeezed shut. He fisted his hands uselessly behind the chair. The most he could move was his hips and at the moment Dean had gripped them tight. 

Dean kissed the angel's thighs, nuzzled the soft hair, and licked his semi erect penis. Castiel gasped, shocked at the action. Dean's expert attention brought him to full hardness despite his objections. 

_ NO NO NONONO!  _ His mind screamed.  _ This is not right, they have to STOP!  _

Sam released his mouth once again to string kisses down his chin and neck. He felt his Adam's apple being licked, then his collar bones being sucked. He took a sharp inhalation when he felt Dean's mouth take in his penis.

"No, don't," his protest was barely a whisper. His mind was reeling. "Dean, stop. Sam please don't." 

He didn't want this, it felt wrong. He should not feel at all, but he was being pushed toward every sensation. Dean was working his penis, going deeper and deeper, taking him all in. Castiel moaned involuntarily. He felt how hot and wet that mouth was, it felt good, too good, wrong. His body wanted to thrust into it, harder, faster. The muscle memory his vessel had kicked in wanting to chase those sensations. His mind wanted him to rip away his restraints and fly away.

"S-stop, p-please," he begged.  _ Why? Why are they doing this?  _

Castiel cried out when Dean started moving faster; teeth scraped, suction harsher. Dean's hand that gripped the base, moving in concert with Dean's mouth, stroked so hard Castiel felt like he was being hit. Dean's other hand squeezed and tugged his balls too rough. Castiel sobbed for them to stop, whimpered and moaned his pain. Sam kissed his mouth again, stopping his protests. Their hands were gripping him tighter, bruises he normally would not think twice about formed. His grace was dampened, leaving him vulnerable. Any pleasure he might have felt fled under their onslaught, leaving hypersensitive skin brutalized by the brothers. 

His jaw ached, moving with the insistent kisses from Sam. Tears streamed down the sides of his face. He felt a burning, nauseating feeling pool in his belly, a tingling in his abdomen. His thighs tensed, his balls contracted, his breath hitched, and he ejaculated into Dean's mouth. There was no joy, no euphoria, no orgasam; just a subtle release of pressure. Nothing felt good.

Castiel was sobbing, humiliation enveloping him. He was a warrior of Heaven, an Angel of the Lord and he was reduced to a cowering mass of violated flesh. Sam hummed and released him, allowing him to bring his head down to his chest. He still had his eyes closed, not wanting to see anything, tears hot and burning. Dean finished up as well, kissing his over stimulated penis causing jolts of pain. Castiel flinched with every touch.

When he did finally open his eyes he saw the brothers smiling self satisfied and looking so pleased.

"I told you you would like it," Sam purred, brushing the hair out of Castiel's eyes.

"You taste great, Angel," stated Dean.


	5. Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the brothers' actions become more violent, Castiel reaches out for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graphic violence.

When Castiel woke he was once again in between the two brothers on the small hotel bed. Claustrophobia gripped him, Castiel had to get out of their grips. He moved a bit, testing how asleep they were. He was able to slip out from under them after a few moments, causing him to breathe easier. He scanned the room for his pants. He was dressed only in his white shirt, unbuttoned, and tie which hung loosely from his neck, everything thing else had been removed. Castiel was normally not embarrassed for his state of undress but he remembered that human protocol stated he be covered. 

_ Yes, I should be dressed. _ He told himself over and over again it was because that is what humans did, not because he wanted to cover himself from the humiliating violation he endured. So he searched for his pants. He failed to find them or any other clothes after a minute. He stole glances over at the brothers on the far bed, he did not want to wake them. One more sweep and he did find a cell phone. Dean's.

Castiel slipped into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He had thought of going out the front door but he still had no pants or a coat and he knew it was cold outside from what the brothers had told him. In his new vulnerable state, he was without his angelic protection from the elements. His hands shook as he flipped open the phone then scrolled through the contacts.  _ Bobby. _ He hit dial, stepped into the tub, farthest away from the door, and waited impatiently. He jumped uncharacteristically when he heard the older hunter answered.

_ “Dean, this better be important.” _

“Bobby, this is Castiel, not Dean.” His voice was only slightly shaky, almost steady.

_ “What's going on? Is Dean okay? Is it Sam?” _ Bobby’s urgent voice was tinny over the small speaker.

“No, they are physically fine. I need to know what they were tracking on their last hunt. Did they consult you?” 

_ “What? Their last hunt was for a witch in -” _

“Yes, I know that. Was there anything in particular about the witch?”

_ “Castiel, what are you getting at?” _

“Sam and Dean had an encounter with the witch and I had to intervene -”

_ “Cas just spit it out! What's -” _

He was unable to hear what Bobby was going to say because at that moment the bathroom door burst in. Castiel stared wide eyed as Sam and Dean crowded the doorway into the little bathroom.

“WHAT THE HELL CAS?!” Dean bellowed as he pushed through the door.

Castiel, shaking uncontrollably, shrank back away from the two brothers. He had never seen that blind fury focused on him before. He had faced down hordes of demons in Hell without a hesitant move, but this sight scared him. He clutched the phone to his chest trying to hide it but Sam saw it.

“He’s got your phone. Who did you call?” Sam demanded as he rushed toward Castiel. 

“I -” was all he got out before Dean slammed into him, pushing him against the back wall of the tub shower unit with is forearm to Castiel’s throat. Dean ripped the phone from the angel's hands. Castiel struggled to breathe. He heard Sam talking.

“Who is this? Oh hey, Bobby. No, no, everything's fine. What did Cas want?” Sam's voice had evened out to friendly, though suspicious. Castiel stopped listening when Dean grabbed his attention.

“Why did you make a call pretty Angel?” Dean asked Castiel in a singalong manner as he pressed his whole body against him. Castiel could only shake his head because Dean’s forearm was cutting off air he shouldn't need. Castiel instinctively grabbed the arm, but then pulled his hands off and placed them on Dean's chest, his eyes begging his friend to release him. 

“Dean -” Castiel throat hurt, he barely got that one word out. He needed his friend to listen to him. What happened next should not have surprised Castiel, but it did.

“Why did you call Bobby, Cas?” 

Dean did not give him a chance to answer before he removed his right arm to backhand Castiel.

“We are trying to help you.“

Castiel was hit over and over again: his face, his side, his jaw, his stomach. Pain dominated his every sense, punctuated with declarations. 

“You don't need anyone else.”

_ Slap. _

“We care about you!”

_ Punch. _

“We can't help if you don't let us!”

_ Kick. _

It all became a blur after a while, he could hear Dean and Sam yelling but he could not make it out for the ringing and roaring in his ears. He could only pick out a word or a phrase, not that it mattered.

“- stop -”

“-called Bobby -”

“Dean I sa-”

“- Sam, damn it!”

“Fuck! I do- “

Much later Castiel found himself still in the tub. He was not comfortable for all the aches and sharp pains he was experiencing, but at least he was alone. He had his head propped up by his arms opposite the faucet with his legs bent to fit him in the tub. He shifted to assess the damage and found his wrists handcuffed to the handicap grab bar above his head. His arms felt dead though they ached. This was not something he had ever experienced before.  __

_ Where they broken?  _ He asked himself, he could not tell. He was relieved for some odd reason that he was still wearing his tie and shirt, which were now blood stained. Dried blood covered his face making it feel stiff. He could not stay here, he had to get away. Something has happened and the brothers needed help. He had hoped the call to Bobby might have alerted the older hunter but he doubted it. And like his grace, angel radio was dampened as well.

Carefully Castiel maneuvered himself so that he was sitting on the edge of the tub, his feet and legs still inside. He was looking for something to free himself, and right then his arms sprang to life with sharp needle like pains up and down them from the shoulders to the fingertips. He wanted to cry out with the pain his movements caused, not just his arms but his back, chest, left side, and his whole face. He did his best not to make any noise at all. He panted as quietly as he could. He rested his head on his arms, his hands holding onto the bar to as not to cut up his wrists with the handcuffs, gritting his teeth to take control of his pain. Castiel had felt pain before, but he could heal himself before it distracted him. With his grace tethered like it was, he was feeling the long term effects of his injuries. 

_ What has happened to Dean and Sam? What did I miss? _

He lifted his head when he heard sounds coming from the other room. Castiel knew fear, however he never knew it on this level. This was personal, intimate. He knelt back down into the tub and waited. He stared at the door willing it to stay closed. His will was not strong enough. Dean came in after a few moments, causing Castiel to tremble.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” His smile was big and wide, like he was happy to see Castiel. Castiel frowned not knowing exactly how to feel. Dean sat on the edge where Castiel had been not seconds before. When he reached for the angel, Castiel pulled back as far as his bound arms would let him.

“Don’t be like that, man. We didn’t want you to hurt yourself. I know what kind of trouble you get yourself into. Here, let me take these off.” Dean was true to his word, he removed the handcuffs. Castiel stayed where he was rubbing his chafed wrists.

“Why Dean? What are you doing this?” Maybe Dean would answer Castiel if he just asked outright. 

“Come, you have to be hungry or at least thirsty.” Dean reached over and pulled Castiel up by his arms. This caused so much pain that Castiel did cry out this time. He clenched his jaw to stem any other outbursts.

“Hey, now. What’s wrong?” Dean’s face was all concern. Nowhere was the fury and hate that had enveloped his friend before. Now he was tender words and soft touches. Castiel did not know what to think.

“I’m fine.” He fell back to his usual answer trying to get Dean to stop touching him. Castiel should not be feeling such an irrational fear of Dean’s touch, but he was.

“The hell you are, you are covered in blood! Sam! Cas is hurt, get in here. I need your help.” 

Too soon he was partially carried and partially dragged into the main room and laid out on one of the beds. Hands roamed all over him again, however, this time they were gentle and kind. Their faces were concerned, their actions were to heal, and they found all the bumps and bruises and cuts. They tried to remove his shirt, but Castiel protested and oddly they listened. Carefully they cleaned him up, washed away all the blood, and put in three stitches above his left eye. All else needed time to heal, no broken bones. 

Castiel wanted to button his shirt but most of them were missing so he resigned himself with holding it closed over as much of himself as he could. He watched the brothers as they moved around the room. He was looking for clues to their mental state. All things pointed to normal except they would not let him leave. He was rubbing his wrists to ease the stiffness when he felt a flare of grace. He reached for it trying to coax it back to him. He was able to focus it to incompletely heal some of his bruises, his ribs, his jaw, his stomach. Wondering how it was able to be released, Castiel quickly surveyed himself and saw that he had partially rubbed off one of the sigils from his right wrist. He crossed his arms over his chest when Dean came back to the bed and sat down.

“Here,” he lifted Castiel up to prop him against some extra pillows so he was sitting up, though reclining, in the bed. Dean put his hand behind Castiel’s head to help him drink from a glass. The glass contained water and it never tasted so good. Castiel was not accustomed to tasting anything so limited, he was used to tasting every single molecule. All too soon the glass was taken away from him. 

“Cas, you need to eat something. I know you are not used to it but, let us help.” Dean was placing a paper plate of food on his lap. Sam came and sat down on Castiel’s right, opposite Dean.

“Cas, I am sorry for Bobby. He should not have spoken with you.” Sam was apologetic. He stroked Castiel’s hair, trailing his hand down to his neck, and ending up resting his large hand on Castiel’s right forearm. Castiel froze not knowing what to do. He did not want Sam or Dean to see the smudged sigil. He was trying his best to draw out his grace to break the sigils’ hold on him. 

“I’m sorry.” Castiel was all he could say. He was at their mercy for a while and did not want to anger them.

“Cas, here, you need to eat.” Dean shoved his brother’s hand off of Castiel’s arm and handed Castiel a hamburger. It was cold and limp with only meat and bread. It was delicious. Castiel had to make himself chew his food carefully so as not to choke. He remembered the taste when they took on the Horseman Famine. He had eaten hundreds of burgers that day. Part of him was ashamed of his actions, but now he was savoring the flavor of red meat again. He was halfway finished when Dean handed him a glass of water. He drained the glass and went back to his burger. He was startled out of his reverence when Sam grabbed his jaw.

“Where is the bruise that was on your jaw? And your split lip? And that black eye shouldn’t be that color yet. Cas, have you been healing yourself?” His eyes were fierce and flashed with anger. Sam jerked the angel’s face to show Dean.

“I -” Castiel started but was cut off by Dean.

“You’re right Sam, he looks too good for the beating I gave him earlier. How Cas? How are you doing it?” Dean started searching Cas, checking all the sigils. Sam held the angel in place while his brother checked every one. It did not take long to find the smudges.

“How long? How long has it been this way? Damn it!” Dean, now as angry as Sam, shoved his brother’s hand away then slapped Castiel. He went and got a permanent marker and redrew the sigils. Castiel tried to struggle but was held fast by Sam. Immediately Castiel felt the burning then fell limp in Sam’s arms, the effects taking hold once again. 

Sam’s voice startled him awake. Castiel was scared that he did not even know he fell asleep so quickly. And disturbed that he was resting so comfortably in Sam's arms.

“- find a more permanent solution. All ink fades or washes off.” Sam’s anger had turned to practical now that the angel was subdued. Dean’s demeanor also faded to a parody of normalcy. 

“Not all ink.” His smile lit up his face. Sam frowned at him then realization hit.

“Of course, but who are we going to trust with this?” Sam gently leaned Castiel to his left side then went to the table to log onto his computer. He was quiet for a while.

Castiel watched with detachment. He felt weird all over again. He was so tired, exhausted. All he really wanted to do was fall asleep. He snuggled into the warmth he felt on his left side. He drew his legs up because they were chilled, he wished he could have pants again, or a blanket. He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders as he fell asleep. 


	6. Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perspectives of an act are different.

Castiel woke once again as the meat in a Winchester sandwich, except he was covered this time. He felt a weird sensation in low his belly. He felt an urgent need to move yet be still. His fidgeting roused Dean. Dean rubbed his hand over Castiel's chest, up his neck, to his face. He turned Castiel's face to his. 

“What is it Angel?” Dean’s voice was sleep gruff. He leaned in brushing his lips against Castiel's stubbled cheek.

Castiel tried to pull back but Dean’s hand held him still. He felt Sam's hand slide over his hip. Too much, he needed to get out of their embrace.

“Dean, I…” he didn't know what to say, how to explain his feeling. Castiel frowned and jerked back when Sam's hand moved over his abs. Sam was starting to nuzzle his ear.

“I feel uncomfortable.” He was taken aback by Dean's reaction, his friend chuckled.

“Alright, come on, let's go. You have to pee.”

Castiel eased out with Dean's help made it to the bathroom. With just a bit of embarrassed actions, Castiel used the facilities. When he had finished he washed his hands while Dean did his business. Dean steered him back to the main room and back to the bed. Sam had went into the bathroom then.

“May I have the rest of my clothes?” Castiel was becoming more and more self conscious of his state of undress. He felt vulnerable and exposed.

“When Sam gets out he’ll go get breakfast. We have a long day ahead.” Dean spoke as if he had said nothing. He took Castiel's wrists and checked the sigils. When he could find nothing wrong, he lifted Castiel's hand and kissed the palm. Castiel stiffened at the action.

“You asked me yesterday, so I will answer you now. You know we just want to keep you safe. We just want to take care of you. All you have to do is relax and let us.”

Dean continued to kiss Castiel's hand, wrist, arm sliding his sleeve up and out of the way. Dean pulled the shirt down to expose Castiel's shoulder where he lingered, slowly making his way across the collarbone to the Angel's neck. Castiel had started to breathe faster. His heart sped up making him tremble. He flinched when Sam sat on the bed opposite Dean. 

_ These are my friends, they won't hurt me. _

Sam picked up where he had left off, nuzzling Castiel's ear. His hands roamed the Angel's body. Castiel felt both sets of hands violating his vessel again.

“Stop,” he said, wanting them to leave him alone. He pushed weakly at their hands, having little strength because of the sigils.

“We want you to feel better. You're too tense. Just relax, we'll take it from here,” Sam's voice was low and raspy next to his ear. He licked Castiel's ear, sucking the lobe. 

“Don't. You don't want to do this,” Castiel whimpered, he never thought he would ever hear that tone in his voice. He could not pull away. He turned his head to get away from Sam’s incessant kisses. Unfortunately he turned right to Dean. Dean took his chance and kissed Castiel. Dean's hands came up to grasp Castiel's face. He could not get away. Dean was just as tenacious as his brother. He forced Castiel's mouth open. Castiel pushed against his chest to no avail.

Sam was trailing kisses on his neck, careful to avoid the sigils. He stopped to pull off Castiel's shirt. Dean had to stop to help him because Castiel was fighting it. 

“Come on Cas, you will be more comfortable without that stinky thing on.”

“No! We have to get you help! Stop!” His words fell on deaf ears, his effort easily shoved aside. Now all he had on was the blue tie and Dean was using it now to hold Castiel upright. 

“Alright Angel, much better.” 

Dean jerked Castiel towards him and locked lips again. Castiel's top lip was split by the force. He could taste the blood in his mouth.

Sam now had access to Castiel's back and arms. His hands roamed all over, touching, squeezing, grabbing. Tears leaked from the angel's eyes when Sam and Dean fondled his genitals. He could feel a hand on his penis and another on his scrotum. He whimpered again when he felt himself responding to their unwanted touches.

They forced him down on his back. Sam was up top, kissing his mouth and holding his arms above his head. Dean had ventured lower, similar to his actions the day before while Castiel was tied to the chair. Only this time Dean sat on his legs to keep them immobile. Castiel could feel Dean's wet mouth on his penis again and again it was an unwanted experience. They said he was enjoying that but Castiel could not reconcile that with how he felt. 

_ It's not them, they are not in their right minds. _

Hands and mouths where they should not be. Actions forced upon him. Castiel needed to get away. When Sam released his mouth Castiel moaned and whimpered. When he felt something try to breach is arse hole, he screamed.

“Please stop this now! Sam! Dean! Stop!” Castiel's voice was weak and pleading. Dean's face replace Sam's in Castiel's line of vision. 

_ It's the hex or curse. This is not them. Not my friends. _

“Shh, shush, keep it down. Don't want to alert the neighbors.” 

“I don’t want you doing this. YOU don’t want to do this! Dean!”

Dean slipped off Castiel's blue tie and used it to tie Castiel's hands to the headboard. He recaptured Castiel's mouth in a brutal kiss. Sam took to giving his genitals attention, though instead of sitting in his legs, he held them open in a painful position. Castiel tried kicking his legs but it was ineffective. Sam took his time favoring his scrotum with licks, over, around, and then under them. Once again Castiel felt an intrusion, only this time he was breached. Sam had stuck something in his arse hole and was working it in and out all the while sucking on his penis.

Castiel was openly sobbing now, tears streaming down his face into his hair and ears. He could not get them to stop. They repeated their mantra of making him feel good, he had yet to feel any pleasure. He felt his arse hole pain intensify when something else was added. Fingers, Castiel determined Sam was using his fingers. He screamed out again causing Dean to slap him.

“What did I say. Do you want me to gag you?”

Castiel's eyes went wide, surely they wouldn't, but then again look at what they have already done. He shook his head. 

“Hurts,” he whispered, “Dean, Sam, please stop. Call Bobby.”

Dean smiled and shushed him. He was running his fingers through the Angel's hair, licking his ear. Castiel screamed again when he felt what had to be another finger more added to his arse hole. The pain was too intense. Dean frowned then shoved some sort of cloth into Castiel's mouth. The Angel could not dislodge the gag. He cried out again when Sam started moving faster. Dean spoke with a voice full of lust.

“He should be opened up nice and wide now, Sam. What do you do you think?”

“Yeah, he loosened up quickly. All ready for you, but be warned, he's still quite tight.”

_ What are they going to do now? _

Castiel's mind was racing. He tried to see what they were doing, but all he did know was that they switched places. Dean continued to hold his legs up and wide in that painful position and Sam yanked the gag from his mouth. Sam started kissing him, sucking his tongue and biting his lips painfully.

“Just relax, this will feel so good. I'll go nice and slow Angel, make you feel real good.”

Dean’s voice and deep and silky, heavy with promises. Castiel tried to shift away. He tensed when he felt something press against his arse hole again. Too soon something huge was being pushed in. Castiel could not help it, again he screamed into Sam's mouth. He thrashed his head, struggled to yank his arms out of tie restraint, and he kicked his legs. Dean did not stop, he continued to shove in, Castiel was sobbing harder. Sam was whispering in his ear and smoothing down his hair. Castiel jerked his head away from his attempts to soothe him. Sam just followed, nipped his ear, and suckled the lobe. His free hand rubbing Castiel's chest, toying with his nipples.

“Oh Cas, you feel so good. Sam, you'll not believe how velvety, hot, and tight our Angel is. Damn!”

Dean leaned down, pushing Sam aside, to kiss Castiel roughly. Dean was not as gentle or slow as he was at first. He was pumping in and out, building momentum. He raised back up onto his knees and thrust in balls deep. Castiel would have cried out loud but Sam's mouth muffled his scream again. He felt his penis being tugged at, he arse was on fire, and there was nothing he could do about it. His friends, the Winchesters he considered his friends, were raping him. Yes, he realized what was happening, he had witnessed it in his long life, just never this close. It hurt physically and mentally. He never understood the psychological impact of this brutal attack before. 

Not soon enough, Castiel ejaculated because of Sam's ministrations. A minute later Dean let out a loud moan and pulled out of him, collapsing on the bed next to him. Sam had stretched out on his other side, snuggled in close. He could feel Sam's erection against his leg.

“Damn Cas, that was the best ever. Our Angel is something else. Oh Sam, just wait.”

“How long do you think?” Sam was eager. He slid his hand between Castiel's legs to finger his hole. Castiel flinched at his touch.

_ No, this is not them. This is the curse. _

“Hold on Sam. Give him time. I mean look at him, riding the waves of ecstasy. Totally fucked.”

Dean had raised up on his elbow to look at the silently sobbing angel. He leaned down and gently kissed Castiel's trembling lips. 

“Don't cry Angel. Was I your first?”

Castiel clinched his eyes tight and would have turned away, but Sam was on his other side, he could feel him rubbing his penis against his leg. So no comfort there. Dean was petting Castiel's face, his voice full of tender caring.

“Aw now, don't be shy. I was your first. Be glad you had someone as gentle and experienced as me. I know it was fantastic. Things will be hypersensitive for a while and that will make you tender, but that will subside.”

Dean was lightly trailing his fingers over Castiel's chest, chuckling a bit when Castiel would flinch. He just wanted to leave. He felt Sam doing the same thing. Their hands were grotesque, their words empty. His friends were trapped within whatever hex the witch cast on them, gone from him.

“Please stop,” Castiel begged. He was a fierce warrior of Heaven, an Angel of the Lord, yet he was a quaking mass of raw emotion. He shouldn't be feeling this way. But his vessel had been violated again. Violated in the most intimate way a human body could be violated.

Castiel prayed, something he vowed never to do again, but he was desperate.

_ Please hear me. Save the Winchesters. Save me. _

  
  
  
  



	7. Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean find a more permanent solution to keep their angel safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as always, it can be a bit rough.

They had been driving for better part of a day, stopping only for restroom breaks, food, and gas. Castiel sat curled up in the back drifting in and out of sleep. After their morning activities, the Winchesters packed up the Impala and gave Castiel some of his clothing back. He quickly pulled on his suit pants, no underwear, slid on a black tee that was a size too big, and his suit jacket. He slipped on his shoes sans socks and was given his trench coat. Neither of the boys had told him where they were headed, but they assured him it was someplace safe that they could take care of him.

Castiel startled awake when Sam sat down beside him in the back seat. Blearily he opened his eyes trying to focus. The sigils were messing with his vision. He nearly jumped out of his skin when something was set in his lap.

“Time to eat, Cas. We have just a few more miles to go before we can stop for the night.” 

Sam was smiling at him pulling food out of the bag. Sam unwrapped his burger and started to eat while Castiel looked around for Dean. He had not had many opportunities to escape today, one of them was always with him. It did not help that he was sore from what had happened that morning. 

Dean climbed into the back with them just a few minutes later, placing a bag in the floorboard. He too pulled a burger from the bag and proceeded to eat. Castiel copied the brothers’ actions. He knew better than to refuse. He had gotten his first lesson in force feeding at breakfast. 

“I got a hold of Jack who told me that Helena will be able to help us out. He said she was discreet and trustworthy, for the right price.”

Dean looked so pleased. Castiel's stomach turned. All the brothers could talk about was getting something more permanent than Sharpies for the binding sigils. It sickened Castiel that he could not get them to listen, though he would not stop trying. When he finished his meal Dean reached into the bag he brought and handed the Angel and Sam a beverage. Beer.

“We need to contact Bobby to find out more about the witch-”

Dean elbowed Castiel right in the mouth, busting his bottom lip and opened up the top one again. Blood poured out staining his shirt and overcoat while he tried to stem the flow with his hands.

“What the fuck, Angel? I mean what the actual fuck? I don't want to hear another word about that bitch of a witch. Sam and I are fine. And if you mention calling Bobby again, I will beat the crap out of you. You hear me Cas? Shut the fuck up.”

Castiel sat in silence while blood dripped off his chin through his fingers. They were both hair trigger violent, but Dean more often than not would react first. He stared blankly ahead while the brothers discussed the best route. A bit later Dean exited the car and Sam focused on Castiel.

“Here, let me look at that.” Sam gently pulled the Angel's hands from his face and gathered some napkins. Sam wiped away as much blood as he could then probed Castiel's lips. Castiel winced in pain.

“Well, good news is that it will not need stitches for either. They will probably bleed off and on for a while, but you're fine.”

Castiel hated this whole situation. Nothing he said made any difference, although, maybe he was going about it wrong. Maybe he should talk to them separately.

“Sam, you have got to listen to me. I did not make it in time before that witch did something to you and your brother. She must have cast -”

Castiel was cut off by Sam's big hand clamping down on his throat. He struggled to breathe.

“Now now, what did Dean say? No more.” Sam looked intently into Castiel's eyes drilling home to point that he was serious along with cutting off his air he should not need. Sam loosened his grip allowing Castiel to breathe again.

“Promise me, not another word.”

Castiel nodded his head trying not to collapse in a trembling heap. Sam brought his other hand up to touch his face. Castiel could not move away because Sam had yet to remove his other hand. Sam ran his fingers through Castiel's hair, resting it on the back of his head. He pulled Castiel towards him and kissed. He was gentle, licking Castiel's chapped, bloody lips, easing his tongue between them, then forcing Castiel's mouth open. Sam sucked his tongue, sliding his over Castiel's. Soon his hands were all over Castiel's vessel, moving under his clothes to get to bare skin. Castiel tried to push him off but he had little effect. He had no strength.

Sam trailed kisses to Castiel's ear then down his neck. Murmuring the same litany about taking care of him and making him feel good. Castiel once again told he him he was wrong.

“This is not right Sam. This does not make me feel good. Stop this please. I am uncomfortable and I do NOT what this.”

Castiel was trembling and panting. He hated this feeling. His stomach twisted and he nearly threw up his burger. Sam was not listening at all. He pushed Castiel back and undid the Angel's pants and pulled them down his thighs. Sam kissed him once again while stroking his penis.

“Sam please don't. Don't touch me.”

“Relax, I'll make the pain go away.”

Sam put his mouth on Castiel's penis and slowly suckled the tip. He moved down the hardening shaft licking and tease biting. He licked Castiel's balls, gently sucking one and then the other. He moved back to the base and licked his way up. 

Castiel had his hands on Sam's broad shoulders pushing the tall man away. He did not want this to happen again. What he hated was the fact that what Sam was doing was starting to feel good. He had never felt those sensations before. Sam's hot mouth engulfed him slowly, inch by inch. Castiel was confused by this. Everything else they had done had hurt. This felt nice and it should not, he was being violated. Soon Sam was bobbing his head up and down on Castiel's hard penis drawing all kinds of shocking and nice feelings. Castiel hated himself for letting his vessel be violated again, but this felt good.

“Sam stop this. Don't do this. This isn't you.”

Castiel threaded his fingers through Sam's hair. He told himself it was to stop Sam. But in reality he liked the feel. It was almost like he was in control. His hips involuntarily moved to thrust into his friend's mouth. That soft warm mouth that was not hurting him. That was making him feel good. Castiel could feel a tightening in his abs, thighs, even his scrotum. His penis swelled and when he thought he was going mad, he ejaculated. But it was more. Wave upon wave of exhilarating sensations swept over his body radiating from his groin. 

_ This must be what an orgasm is. _

Sam licked him clean then moved up to kiss the Angel. Castiel was crying again. He was so ashamed of himself for enjoying the attack. He did not want Sam to do that yet he had just laid back and let it happen. 

_ Wrong wrong wrong! _

Sam kissed him tenderly and spoke softly.

“Shh shh now. Don't cry. That felt good, right? I just want you to feel good.”

Sam helped his sort out his clothes and settle in to rest. Castiel leaned his head back on his coat against the window. They were off again, Dean having arrived back just as Sam was exiting the car.

A couple of hours later they pull up to a strip mall where all shops were either closed or empty. Dean pulled Castiel out from the back and they all went to a tattoo place. Dean knocked three times before the door opened. Inside was dark except for a room in the back.

A woman about mid thirties greeted them. Dean went on to explain that Castiel needed some tattoo work. He pointed to the Angel's wrists, ankles, and neck. He also showed her a stack of bills he had in his pocket.

Castiel struggled a bit in Sam's grip. He was shaking his head and trying to pull away. If they do this, there would be no way for him to escape. 

“No, don't do this. I don't-”

Castiel was cut off by Sam clamping his hand over his mouth. Sam pulled him from the room and punched him in the stomach. 

“Cas, you will behave and get this done.”

Castiel again twisted his the tall man’s grip. 

“NO! You can't do this! We need to get you help!”

Sam hit him hard on the jaw. Castiel was stunned. Pain exploded from his mouth, ribs, stomach, and nose. In short order, he was reduced to a quivering mass on the floor. 

“You will get this done.” 

Those were the last words Castiel heard before Sam hit him hard enough to knock him out.

Castiel woke up part way through the tattooing. He was strapped down to the chair with a gag in his mouth. He clenched his jaw around the cloth gag to keep from crying out with the pain of the needles and the pain from Sam’s beating. 

A little more than an hour later they were back on the road. Castiel was hurting so much that every little bump or dip in the road hurt his body. He grit his teeth to stem the whimpers and moans of pain, but not all were stifled. 

_ I am better than this. I will find a way out. I am an Angel of the Lord, a warrior of Heaven. _

Castiel's words felt empty in his head. He drifted off to sleep a bit later. He was jostled awake by Sam shaking him.

“We’re here. Come on let's go in.”

Castiel blinked his eyes to clear his vision. He could not make out where here was mostly because it was dark. He let himself be helped out and guided to what appeared to be a cabin. It was hard to breathe. He was grateful for the helping hands. He scratched at the bandages on his wrists and neck.

“Don't do that, Cas. You don't want them to get infected. No scratching.”

Sam sat Castiel down on a large floral couch and covered him with a blanket. Castiel watched as the two brothers hauled in their stuff. They brought in the duffle bags and bags of groceries. He just wanted to sleep to escape this nightmare. He laid his head back and promptly did just that.

When Castiel awoke he was laid out on a bed, once again between the two Winchesters. Pain shot out from every place he had been beaten. He wished he had some pain medication. He lay there for a few minutes before falling back asleep.

  
  



	8. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel talks too much so the brothers fix it. Castiel makes a desperate plea for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always read the tags. Mental break caused by physical abuse and a total disregard for Castiel's well being or opinions. Self recriminations and guilt do nothing to aid the angel in his predicament.

They had been at the secluded cabin for nearly two months. Occasionally one or the other brother would leave for supplies. They never left Castiel alone, not even for bathroom stuff. One Winchester brother or the other was his constant shadow. And every day Castiel grew weaker. He could not fight off their advances. He could not talk to them. He had gotten more than one beating because he dared mention they needed help. The last time Sam threatened to take care of his complaining permanently.

This morning he sat at the end of a dock, the cabin was by a fairly large lake, while Dean fished. He tried to get Castiel interested but he declined. Castiel was hurting from the morning’s fucking. He had taken to calling it that in his head because it was rough and harsh. He had called it rape until he was so ashamed and broken that he needed call it something else. So he settled on fuck. At times it was nice, Sam and Dean would be gentle and caring. He even orgasmed when they were kind. But usually, like this morning, they were rough and selfish. Both Dean and Sam took turns pounding his arse raw. It hurt to sit but he did not want to lay down on the hardwood of the dock.

Castiel tried to tell them they were too rough, how they were hurting him, but they would not listen. To the Winchesters, each time they “made love” as they called it, it was exactly the same. They saw no difference in gentle, slow sex or a pounding fuck. His complaints this morning earned him a backhand and Sam logged into the computer for the last three hours.

At lunchtime Castiel was treated to burgers, it used to be his favorite meal, but now he equated it to this imprisonment and sexual torture. Whatever was put in front of him he ate mechanically, barely tasting it. He learned that lesson early, he had no say in his food and he better not complain. Sam came in after Castiel and Dean had already started.

“Hey Cas, lean your head back.”

Castiel compiled as Sam took a maker and drew something in his throat. Pain flared that caused him to cough and wheeze trying to get air.

“What the hell Sam!? What did you do?”

Dean was up and holding onto the Angel so he would not fall out of his chair while Sam continued with two more drawings.

“It's okay Dean. This will pass. It's a set of silence runes. He'll be fine in a few moments. This will pass.”

True to his word, Castiel soon was breathing easier. He drank some water because his throat was so dry.

“You okay Angel?”

Oh how he hated when they called him that. He nodded his head as an answer. He tried to say he was fine but no words came out. He tried again and again, silence.

“What the fuck?”

“I told you Dean. I finally found a set of three runes that will silence an Angel. Now we don't have to hear him complaining about needing to get help and all that shit. Though I will miss the sound of his voice, it's sexy as fuck.”

Castiel gaped at their exchange. He could not talk. He could not make a sound. No, this was wrong! Castiel got up and backed away from the brothers. He was scratching at his throat to get those runes off. 

_ What have you done? Why Sam why?  _

Castiel was screaming at them as they pulled his hands away from his throat. They had to tie his hands behind his back to get him to stop. He sat at the table weeping. One more thing they have taken away from him. Castiel was shutting down.

Later that evening Dean was on top of him pounding his arse again. Castiel did not move. He could no longer scream out his pain, not that it mattered before. He went through the motions, screaming in his head. When Dean was finished Castiel curled into his side and fell asleep.

It had been late fall when they had arrived at the cabin. Castiel had enjoyed watching the leaves change color. Sam had taken the time to explain what was happening and why. It was spectacular. Now the leaves were all gone as winter settled in. Castiel now stared off into space not seeing anything. Sam or Dean would come to him throughout the day to talk to him or feed him or to fuck him. He never voluntarily did anything anymore. 

Sam would make him go with him for a walk, though now he could not ask any questions about what he saw. Dean would take him fishing though he never participated. Sam would read to him from one of the many books stacked around the cabin. Dean would tell him stories of past hunts. Either of them would suck him off or fuck him. Castiel took all of it without much of a reaction. In his head he raged and screamed and wept. Early on he had attempted escapes, but now he was so beaten and conditioned he barely made the effort to dress himself.

It was a cold December morning and Castiel was sitting in the porch bundled up in a blanket. He might not react to much of anything anymore but he hated being cold. He had gone out there shortly after breakfast to get away, he hated their caring attention more than anything. The falseness of it rang hollow in his head and hurt worse than fucking or beating. They had let him be by himself more and more since he didn't do anything without prompting. This morning had him watching little birds as they flitted across the yard pecking at the ground. This made him smile bitterly. He wished he were a bird so he could fly away. He wept because he could no longer feel his wings, hadn't in a long time.

An hour later Sam came out and sat with him. He chatted about the weather and how they needed to get supplies because of this or that. On and on he droned. Castiel tuned him out. Dean came out a while later and he ended up talking about the same stuff. 

Dean startled him by kneeling in front of him. Castiel flinched back when Dean leaned in close. He kissed the Angel then got up to leave. Castiel tracked him with his eyes, envying his ability to just get in his car and drive away. He let his eyes roam back over the yard to find the birds.

“Come on Angel. Let's go inside.” 

Sam tugged at his arm to get him to get up. Castiel shook his head adamantly. If he went inside Sam may fuck him again. Every morning and night, every day. He prayed for it to stop though he knew no one was listening. 

“Aw Angel, what's wrong?”

Castiel was confused by this question. He looked at Sam's caring face. He touched his own cheek and felt wet. He was crying. He normally tried to cry alone. He hated when they comforted him. It rang so true, felt so fake, and hurt so deep.

Castiel jerked back when Sam had made to touch his face. He shook his head again and shoved at the tall man to leave him alone. Sam did not listen this way either. Instead he opened the blanket and tried to get him to get up. Castiel refused again and pulled the blanket back around him. Finally getting the point, Sam got up and went inside, which, frankly, shocked Castiel.

Castiel watched as the birds went along their merry ways of living their lives. He watched as the sun moved across the sky. Right around noon, Sam came back out. He knew it was noon because they always had lunch at noon.

“Come in Cas. It's time for lunch.”

Castiel shook his head again. He did not want to eat. He really should not be so defiant, he only got hurt, however, Castiel did not care today.

Sam once again kneeled in front of him. He carefully moved the blanket out of the way. Then he touched Castiel on the cheek. Castiel was proud of himself for not flinching this time. He felt Sam's hands roam down to his chest and then lower.

_ No! _

Castiel pushed the offending hands away the attempted to get up. Sam on the other hand pushed him back down and pulled his sweatpants open. They had replaced his old suit with sweatpants and shirts. He liked them because they were soft and warm. He hated them because they afforded too much easy access, like now.

Sam had Castiel’s penis in his hand. He lowered his head and licked the tip. He started to stroke and lick at the same time. Soon Castiel was hard and throbbing. Like Pavlov's dog, his body responded quickly to the brothers' touches. Sam now was sucking and bobbing. Castiel gripped the arms of the chair. He braced himself against the attack and attacks they were. He never wanted them to touch his vessel, ever, but they always did. 

Sam was going down on him with enthusiasm. Castiel was openly sobbing without a sound. It hurt, Sam was not gentle, rough and too fast. Too soon, but not soon enough, Castiel ejaculated. He cried out in silence at the sharp pain. When Sam moved out of the way, Castiel doubled over his lap and cried. Oh how he hated himself, yes he hated himself. He had failed Sam and Dean.

Castiel had not been able to convince either brother of their predicament. He had failed to escape and find help. He had failed at contacting Bobby. Now the brothers were trapped in this unending hell and neither knew they were trapped. A hell that had humiliated and degraded Castiel to a shell of himself. He could not protect his vessel. It was violated daily by an insidious curse that was stealing away the Winchesters’ lives.

He went in a bit later and ate the stew Sam made. He sat and watched a movie with Sam afterwards. He lay naked on the couch, where Sam fucked him, until Dean came back. Castiel curled up under a blanket and stared blankly at the fire while the brothers unloaded the car and fixed supper.

Dean sat with him for a while. He told the Angel about how shopping was a hassle and people were rude, though he did get the number of the waitress in town.

“I wouldn't do anything with her, Angel. No need to get jealous. Just making sure I still had it.”

Dean laughed and told about a sweet shop in town that had great looking pies. He purchased two to try. Dean went on to explain why he had to get white bread instead of whole wheat. Castiel flinched when he felt Dean's hand on his crotch. Sam had come in to let them know that supper would be done in ten minutes. Dean did not stop stroking Castiel's penis to acknowledge his brother. Sam watched for awhile then came over and kissed Castiel long and deep. Dean took this opportunity to suck Castiel.

The Angel blanked his mind but he still felt. Dean was just as rough and fast as his brother. Sam bit Castiel's lip and made it bleed. He ejaculated just as painfully as before. Dean did not let him recover like Sam did. He immediately kissed him and held him in a hug.

“Damn, I love the taste of you, Angel.”

Dean pulled him up and dragged him along to the dinner table. Their meal was quiet with Sam making a few remarks about the choice of foodstuffs and how he fucked Castiel on the couch mistaking Castiel's compliance with enjoyment. Dean kissed Castiel as he got up to do the dishes. Castiel flinched and silently cried.

The next day was colder than before. It chased Castiel indoors far earlier than he would have liked, though he was safe from the brothers’ care for a while. Sam was on the computer making notes and Dean was cleaning their arsenal of weapons. Castiel curled up on the couch sore from this morning's fuck, they had made him bleed because they both wanted to be inside him at the same time. Excruciatingly painful and humiliating. 

He picked up the blanket to wrap around himself when he felt something in the folds. Thinking it was the television remote, Castiel dug it out to toss on the coffee table. He was shocked to find a cell phone. He quickly tucked it under the blanket and surreptitiously glanced at each brother. When neither came running he continued to wrap the blanket around him. He got up to head back outside. When he got to the door he froze when Dean spoke.

“Don't be out there too long, Angel. You'll catch your death.”

_ If only. _

Castiel made sure neither were watching as he settled in his rocking chair. Carefully he opened the phone, neither had ever set a security lock on their phones. He opened the text messenger and found Bobby’s contact number. He typed out a quick plea.

'bby thisis cas i nee your helo san and deen have been cursd or hexd by which and are nit themself. .can you trak this ohone and find us. !?I turned in the g ps’

He hit send then typed another note.

'do nit reply I am delet this they wont know i sent this. Theybare nit themslef. Help olease they csn not know i sent these come quick’

Castiel held his breath as he watched the little symbols move to indicate the texts were sending. When they were gone he deleted the text stream like he remembered Sam had shown him. He had filled up his memory on his phone and wondered why he was not getting anymore texts. Sam helped him clean up the excess and set the priority for messages. Castiel went back in the cabin, acting like he had to go to the bathroom. He dropped the phone in the recliner as he passed.

Castiel went outside again when neither brother accosted him for using a phone and watched as the first snow of the season started to fall. A smile played on his lips, brightening his face. He had hope now.


	9. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel waits for Bobby to come save them as the brothers' behaviors become more violent and erratic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pain, alcohol, and drugs.

Days passed and nothing from Sam or Dean to indicate they knew about the texts. Castiel had dragged himself from one day to the next on edge, waiting for a beating. When the first week went by, he breathed a little easier until he realized a new anxiety had taken its place. No Bobby. 

Castiel did not know what state they were in or how far from South Dakota they were. So the old hunter could very well be on his way. Castiel endured the brothers’ “care” each day hoping against hope Bobby would appear.

Three weeks later and Castiel was losing that newfound hope. Sam and Dean were getting rougher by the day. They had taken to feeding him and that usually ended up with blood, Castiel's blood. Sam would ram spoons into his mouth cutting up his gums and tongue or Dean would get angry at him for not chewing fast enough and beat him. Not a day went by that he was not hit. He has lost a tooth to stew and received a broken nose and two black eyes for a burger. Coffee had his tongue perpetually burnt. 

By February Castiel had bruised if not fractured ribs, he dare not come when Dean fucked him one night. He received four broken fingers on Groundhog’s Day when he failed to finish his fries, there were four left on his plate. Castiel’s left shoulder was dislocated on Valentine’s Day when Dean was jerking him off while they watched a movie and Sam wanted to have some time with the Angel. Sam yanked Castiel up from the couch causing Dean’s hand to slip off his penis painfully and his left shoulder to pop. He was in the middle of a tug of war with him as the rope. He screamed silently fearing his left arm was going to be ripped off. The brothers ended up in a fist fight while Castiel hid in the bathroom. He tiptoed around trying to avoid the Winchesters’ fights. This turn of events, the brothers fighting over him, started late January after Dean’s birthday.

Dean wanted Castiel all to himself on his birthday and Sam was having none of it. Sam argued that they were in this together and it would be unfair for Dean to have to shoulder the responsibility all by himself. Dean countered with the fact that Sam was having to take care of the Angel whenever he went into town and it was only fair he take the day. Sam reacted saying that he would go shopping next time because Dean’s choice of produce sucked. Dean swung, Sam kicked, the fight ended with Castiel between them. Dean was fucking and Sam was sucking. Castiel wanted to die.

Castiel was jerked off or sucked off anytime of the day, so his penis was raw and swollen, and he was beaten if he did not come in a timely manner. The rapes, he was back to calling it rape, the rapes were lessons in torture and humiliation. They even worked out a schedule to make things more manageable; mostly because neither wanted to share anymore. Mornings were for Sam, because he liked to “take care” of Castiel before his morning run. Dean “took care” of Castiel at night, because he was more of a night owl. They explained it all in detail with a chart of what was now to be their routine. He guessed he could count himself lucky that they kept the rapes to the bedroom now. He never got a chance to heal though, he was bleeding nearly every time he was penetrated. He never went a day without hurting or being doctored by the brothers.

After supper a couple days after Valentine’s Day, Castiel was cowering behind the recliner beside the fireplace because Sam and Dean were arguing over with best kitchen utensils would be best to sodomise the angel with. Dean wanted wooden spoon and Sam wanted rolling pin. Fortunately for Castiel the brothers’ argument devolved into a fight. This saved him more often than not, however, their fights have escalated to brutal. Castiel was afraid one day one was going to kill the other. 

He crawled out from behind the chair when the noise had quit for a long while. He found Sam knocked out by the kitchen and Dean staggering out of the bathroom. Castiel froze. He waited to see what Dean would do. When the elder brother went upstairs Castiel carefully checked on Sam. With relief he found him just knocked out, maybe with a concussion, a bloodied mouth, and what would turn into a nasty black eye. He could see it swelling. He took the blanket off the couch and covered up the tall man. Satisfied he could do no more, Castiel then went upstairs to check on Dean.

The elder Winchester was laying in bed quickly falling asleep, so Castiel slipped back downstairs. Castiel grabbed the throw from the recliner and settled on the couch, grateful for another fight induced reprieve. He prayed for forgiveness for causing the Winchesters to battle over him. He prayed that Bobby saw his texts and was on his way. He prayed in vain for someone to hear him and save the Winchesters.

The morning after a fight was always tense. Castiel woke when he heard Dean moving around upstairs; he was going to be irritable. Dean stomped down the stairs and into the kitchen while Castiel pretended to sleep on the couch. He was hesitant to join Dean. Through slitted eyes he watched as Dean had checked on Sam, who didn’t seem too worse for the sleep on the floor. Castiel saw Dean give his brother a hand up then they both went into the kitchen. Not wanting to incur any wrath from either of them, Castiel got up, used the facilities, then made his way to them. He saw as Dean handed his brother a cup of coffee and both sat at the kitchen table. The angel shuffled in and sat with them. He was praying that Sam would skip this morning’s activities. He jumped when Sam addressed him.

“I’m sorry, Angel, I don’t have it in me this morning. My head is tender.”

Castiel stared. He wanted to say  _ “Leave me alone, I'm fine,”  _ but all he could do was nod his head and raised his right hand, letting Sam know he was okay with it. Sam smiled sadly at the angel as he took a sip of his coffee. Dean had gotten up during the exchange. He returned with a couple of pills for his brother. Sam nodded a thanks and took the offered medication. Castiel flinched when Dean moved towards him, though he wished for pain medication as well. Dean had a bowl and a cup in his hands. As always it was plain oatmeal and black coffee. Castiel learned to hate both. He hated most of what the brothers forced him to eat. 

_ “I can feed myself.” _ Castiel wanted to tell them, but shook his head again and held up his hand to stay the younger Winchester. He tensed up when Sam continued to move towards him.

“No, it is my job, my pleasure to do this for you, Angel.” 

Sam's eyes were bright and slightly pained. He moved Castiel to sit in his lap, another humiliation that they thought was caring. His vessel was not small at nearly six foot, so this treatment was foolish, however they insisted. The angel cried out, or would have if he could make noise, when Sam grabbed his dislocated left shoulder. Sam released Castiel then guided him back down into his seat.

“What’s wrong? Cas!” Dean’s voice was full of worry. Sam also was murmuring words of concern. Castiel was crying, pulling away from the brothers, clutching his left arm.

“Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?”

All Castiel could do was shake his head and hold his left arm, trying to stem the pain.

“What’s wrong with your arm, Angel?”

Dean forced Castiel’s hand away and examined the shoulder. Castiel would flinch or jump, generally try to get away from Dean’s prodding. Sam helped his older brother remove the Angel’s sweatshirt. He would have screamed as loud as his true voice if he could have made sound.

“His shoulder is dislocated? Sam when did this happen?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember him in the fight last night?”

Castiel pointed at the calendar hoping they would notice. Sam did.

“What? Angel, which day?”

Castiel pointed to the fourteenth. Sam’s eyes got wide.

“Dean, he has been this way for three days.”

“Yes, I know how long it’s been. Fuck! Angel, why have you been in this much pain and not told us?”

Castiel would have laughed in Dean’s face if he could. He wore an expression that was the epitome of anger and hurt. He pointed to his throat.

_ I can’t fucking talk since you and Sam carved these runes on my throat!  _

Time and time again over the last three days he had tried to communicate that he was in agony because of his shoulder. He held his arm close to his body, he flinched and out right jumped away whenever they touched his left arm or shoulder. He cried openly when they moved his arm to change his shirt. They failed to look at him. They just did not see him.

He shook his head violently, attempting to get away from them. Castiel nearly fell out of the chair backing away. Sam got behind him and Dean in front, they trapped him by the counter. The pain flared white hot causing Castiel to gasp and pant. Tears of agony streamed down his face. He passed out in the brother’s arms.

Castiel woke up in bed. He heard Dean talking about whiskey and Sam saying something about inflammation. None of it made sense to him at the moment. He ached. His fingers that had mostly healed throbbed in tandem with his heartbeat. His shoulder joined in at that moment followed quickly by his arse and penis. 

_ Did they fuck me while I was out? _

His shoulder was the loudest of the chorus. The bed moved alerting him to the fact someone had sat down beside him on his right side. He slowly turned his pain filled gaze to the Winchester, because who else would it be. It was Dean who sat smiling with a face full of hurt sorrow.

“Angel, we have to pop your shoulder back into place or there will be damage. Here, you need to sit up.”

Castiel moaned in his head through the pain. He was panting and huffing to focus on something else. 

_ What do you mean ‘pop’ it back in? _

He wanted to ask but before he could even look at either brother, Sam had grabbed his left arm and Dean was braced up against his chest. 

"On three."

Castiel’s eyes snapped from one Winchester to the other as Dean and Sam counted in tandem.

“One. Two.”

Sam pulled as Dean held Castiel steady. The pain of the dislocation was nothing compared to this. He screamed silently as loud as he could and passed out again. When he woke again, his arm was strapped to his chest and he was alone. Pain blossomed all over, radiating from his shoulder. 

_ Will I ever be able to use that arm again? _

He wondered if he would ever stop hurting. Tears never stopped spilling. He attempted to move but passed out again. He woke once more as Sam entered the room. He was carrying a glass of something in his hand.

“Hey Castiel, how are you doing?”

His voice was full of concern as he sat down on the Angel’s right side. He set the glass down and handed Castiel two pills.

“We couldn’t give these to you before but they will help with the pain. Here, let me help Angel.”

Sam gathered Castiel up so that he could drink. He nearly spit out the liquid. It was not water.

“Come on now Angel, this will help.”

Castiel shook his head. He really did not think pain medication and vodka was the right things to take. Sam was insistent and in the end Castiel drank the whole ten ounce glass of alcohol. Honestly he did not think the alcohol would have any effect, given his history. It had taken almost a full bottle of whiskey for him to feel anything. However, within minutes he was feeling woozy from the combination or maybe the pain. Either way he was asleep in ten minutes. When he woke for the fourth time Dean helped him get dressed, which was weird because his left arm was still inside his shirt, but Dean told him it was for the best. He helped him downstairs to the kitchen.

Castiel was feeling queasy, his head was pounding in concert with his shoulder. He did not want the food put in front of him, he did not want to drink the coffee, yet he was not given the choice. The oatmeal was shoved into his mouth and was made to drink all the hot coffee. Then he was given two more pills and a glass of vodka. He hated that he could do nothing to defend himself. The only thing he had to be grateful for was the fact that his arse and penis had been left alone for almost two days. 

Sam helped him up to go to the living room while Dean did the dishes. Sam stabilized the wobbly Angel and settled in, wrapping a blanket around him and stoking the fire. Castiel felt better than he had in awhile. The alcohol and pills were working their magic. His body loosened up and his head got fuzzy in a pleasant, heavy way, not a confused way. He liked vodka and whatever those pills were, his shoulder hardly hurt at all. And he was able to breathe easier than he had in a month. Castiel had almost forgotten about that, his ribs gave no protest when he took a deep breath. Sam handed him another glass but to his disappointment, it was only water. He drank with a frown. He did not want to water down his numb, it was too comfortable. He was only vaguely aware that Sam had started to stroke his penis. He watched with distracted interest as his penis got hard then Sam took it in his mouth. He barely felt it. It was great. So great in fact he fell asleep not knowing if the younger Winchester finished him or not.

Over the next few days the Winchesters cared for the Angel by bringing him food, water, vodka, and pills. If he stayed numb enough then he did not have to feel anything. He did not have to care that he was stuck here. He did not have to remember how much he failed Sam and Dean. They could fuck him all day as long as he had his happy drugs and alcohol.

Castiel sat outside watching with amazement at how such fat little birds could actually fly. Then he watched as the colors drained from the sunset into the trees, turning shades of grey. He stared blankly holding his left arm tight to his body. It was starting to hurt again. Castiel finished the last of the bottle of vodka then threw it at the door. The bottle did not shatter but it did make a loud bang. The Winchesters came out and helped the Angel inside. They laid him down on the bed, gave him two more pills, and only water. They tried to get him to eat but he refused wanting his alcohol. Failing that they left him to himself to fall asleep. He was finally able to exert some sort of control over his life.


	10. Bobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is he real or has Castiel cracked entirely?

Castiel was drunk. He stayed in a perpetual state of inebriation since the Winchesters had fixed his shoulder. Fixed was a strong word, popping it back in place, sure, but it still ached and he could barely use his arm still after a month. Castiel endured with vodka or tequila or whiskey, whatever the brothers had on hand. They never denied him due to the guilt of having hurt him, which was a joke. They did stop the painkillers though, for which Castiel went on a bender, as much as he could, for three days. His hope was that he would die of alcohol poisoning, something he had heard them mention. Several times he had just blacked out, he was too wasted. 

Sam and Dean had to end up force feeding him and taking his alcohol. They hid it, but the Angel could always find it. They resigned to the fact Castiel needed his drink. He needed it to get through the days filled with being bathed, fed, sucked, and fucked and nights filled with nightmares, night terrors, and self recriminations of how he failed the Winchesters. He drank to dull his mind, to not think, to not feel. Most of the time it worked.

With the turn of the seasons, Castiel had forgotten about escape. He sat outside on the porch slowly rocking while Sam sucked him off. Tears he never registered anymore slid down his face, they were involuntarily reactions just like his erection. His mind was with the birds while his body responded. He hardly felt anything, other than shame and hatred of himself.

Castiel took out joint Dean had gotten him and lit up. When they took away his other drugs, Dean thought he needed something else, so he brought joints and taught Castiel how to smoke. Sam was furious. The fight was horrific and left Castiel bleeding and unconscious for two days. Nonetheless, he retrieved the offending objects and smoked whenever he was outside. One bonus was that both Sam and Dean refused to kiss him. Castiel was fine with that, now if he could get them to stop raping him.

Castiel felt the bit of tension melt. The brothers liked him this way, pliant, and what they thought of as happy. He felt his body ejaculate then Sam get up. He stared blearily eyed when the younger Winchester spoke.

“What the fuck, Cas?” 

Castiel flinched despite his mellow. They called him Cas when they were mad or concerned. 

“Did you really have to light up before I had finished?”

Castiel blew out smoke through his nose then opened his mouth to speak the closed it, remembering. He slipped on a sad smile and shrugged. He stuck the butt back in his mouth and drew in a big lung full. Sam stomped away in disgust. Castiel reached for his bottle and took a swig. He was down to half, he’d better write a note. 

At lunchtime he stumbled in landing on the couch. He lay there waiting for them to haul him up for food. His head hurt and he wanted a nap. What shook him out of his stupor was they were undressing him. Now naked he was made to straddle Dean and impale himself. 

_ No, it's not nighttime yet! _

Dean held him in place as Castiel tried to get off his lap and penis.

“Oh no, sit still Angel. It lunchtime.”

Dean was smiling holding onto Castiel’s hips. Castiel was bracing himself with his hands on Dean's shoulders. Dean's huge penis was hurting Castiel's arse. Who was he kidding, his arse hurt all the time. Sam came over a few moments later with a sandwich. 

“Here you go, Angel.”

He held out the food to Castiel's mouth. They expected him to eat while sitting there with a penis inside him?

“Eat, don't make me force you.”

Castiel’s eyes were wide with confusion. Why did they think this was a good thing? He bit into the sandwich to avoid a beating. While he ate, Dean started to move his hips, slightly bouncing him on his lap. With the weight he had lost, it was easy for Dean to do. Castiel was easily twenty to thirty pounds lighter than when this all started.

Castiel's penis was hard, per usual, his tears slowly slid down his face, per usual, and Dean murmured how beautiful and fucking hot Castiel was, per usual. Castiel wanted another drink. He was going to be sick. He could only eat about a quarter of the sandwich, so he dropped it on the floor. Dean took that to mean to fuck him harder. Sam joined in stroking his penis when Dean bent Castiel over the coffee table. Humiliation was not a stranger, but it had new ways to hurt. Castiel ejaculated and vomited at the same time then passed out.

When he woke Castiel was soaking in the tub. The water was warm and he smelled soap. They must have cleaned him up, his mouth tasted of mint. 

_ I need a drink. _

He was too sober to deal. He moved causing the water to splash. Sam came in at the sound.

“Good you're awake. We got scared you were sick. You don't have a fever, but Dean went to town to get you some antibiotics, just in case.”

Castiel let Sam manhandle him out of the tub, barely giving any assistance. They have made him what he was today, they can deal. When he was dry and laid out on the bed, Castiel wanted to sleep, but the gnawing in his stomach hurt. He clutched his belly and looked to the younger brother. His hope was that Sam would bring his bottle and leave him alone. Sam did leave, but came back with water and some Pepto. Castiel shoved it away with shaky hands. He wanted to scream. Sam forced Castiel to swallow the medicine and water, receiving a bloody lip for that endeavor. 

Castiel rolled over on his side, away from the Winchester. He was starting to shiver, he needed a blanket. What he didn't want, never wanted, was the tall man to lay down next to him and spoon him. He was too cold and felt like crap. But Sam’s body heat felt good, so he lay still. As expected, Sam’s hand sneaked around and found his penis. Never could they just let him sleep. Cas shoved the hand away but was met with his other hand grabbing his wrist and holding his arms pressed up against his chest. Sam maneuvered himself until he was lined up then fucking Cas. Sam rolled him over onto his back and was pounding his arse with brutal delight. Cas was sobbing, screaming silently as he felt himself ripped open yet again because they never prepped him properly.

When he was done, Sam brought Cas a bottle of something. Cas didn't care what it was, because he was flying in five minutes. He had a quarter of it down before Sam came back with soup. Cas shoved it away and guzzled more before Sam took it away and forced him. By the time Dean got back, Cas was three sheets to the wind and wanted to take off with them.

“What the hell, Sam? He needed to take this medication. Now he will have to wait until he is sober. What if that is too late?”

“Ease up doc. He just needed a fuck and a drink. Look at him, he is much better now.”

Cas smiled lazily at the arguing brothers. They were blurry and hard to understand and that was fine by him. He carefully put the cap on his bottle and leaned back on the bed. He did not even care when they got rowdy. He vaguely remembered hearing them fight. He slid off the bed opposite the brothers and propped himself up against the wall, he was too tired.

The next morning had Cas straddling Sam and Dean was sucking his dick all while he was supposed to eat his breakfast. He had no clue why they thought this was a good idea. The food kept falling off the plate. Bacon and eggs now littered Sam’s chest while Dean bobbed in time with Sam's thrusts. Cas ejaculated then wanted to nap. However, Dean decided that he needed to get inside Cas. They had done this once before and it hurt like hell. No way he was going to let them do it again. 

Cas tried to get off but Sam held tight. Dean pushed Cas forward enough for Sam to hold him but not enough for Sam to slip out. Dean lubed up and started to push in.

“Oh man Cas is so tight. You feel me Sammy?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah that feels good. Damn.”

Cas cried and struggled against the attack. If he could just die this would be all over. 

“Shit, Dean slow down. Cas is wiggling all over. Damn you feel good. Fuck, can I say that about my brother's dick in another man?” Sam laughed at that. Dean joined in. Cas screamed soundlessly at the renewed pain when they both started moving.

They came simultaneously, moaning and squeezing Cas tight. Cas held his breath and hoped to be let go soon. They put him in a hot tub of water to clean him up. Luckily they gave him a bottle of vodka for his pain. Cas lay on the tub and wondered if he could drown himself. By the time he thought he would try Dean had him out, dried, and wrapped in a blanket. They never bothered with clothes any more. They set him up outside again where he got to smoke a joint and drink his alcohol. He never knew when Dean came out to give him a blowjob. He never knew when they brought him inside to eat chili. They spoon fed him while he sat impaled on Sam’s penis. He moved when they told him and sat when they said sit. He lit up again when he was outside. 

He had just finished the butt and took a long pull from his bottle wondering if he had enough make it through tomorrow when Sam came out and opened his blanket. His penis reacted at the first touch and Sam started licking him. Cas idly pushed Sam’s head away to make him stop but he was ignored. Cas stared at the bobbing head then lit up a joint. He needed to write Dean a note that he only had three left.

He lit up another, held a lung full of smoke, staring at the sunset when he heard a noise. Cas looked at Sam still going down on him then over at the driveway. He watched an old, beat up truck slowly creep up then stop by the Impala. Cas took another drag when a man got out of the truck. 

_ Huh, looks like Bobby. _

Cas then felt himself ejaculate and Sam cleaned him up. Sam was just about to stand when the man called out.

“Sam?”

Sam was shocked, jerking himself upright. He quickly covered Cas and called for Dean. He ran down to meet the guest.

“Bobby! How’ve you been? Long time no see.” He greeted as if nothing was wrong.

Cas took a swig of his bottle and frowned at the level. The took another drag of his joint and watched as Dean greeted Bobby with the same manner. Bobby seemed fuzzy and confused. Cas shrugged, pulling his legs up into the seat, and snuggled in his blanket. More words were spoken, but Cas did not care. When he woke up he was surprised he was not being fucked or sucked despite being in the bedroom now. He was happy for the reprieve. He reached for his bottle and frowned. He looked around and his frown deepened. Wrapping himself in his blanket, he made his way downstairs. He was hungry and he needed a drink. He had become too sober while he slept. Normally he would have his bottle by the bed, but they must have forgotten it on the porch. Cas went to the bathroom, ignoring the mirror, urinated, then made his way to the kitchen. He found the brothers and another person there. He did not bother with anyone, going straight for the cabinet with the booze. He frowned when he found none. He turned to find Dean with a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Good morning, Cas.”

Cas flinched at his name wondering what he had done to make Dean mad. He then frowned when Dean did nothing. Cas pointed to the cabinet. No way he was going to do this life without it. Dean pushed the coffee at him and Cas just stared into Dean’s eyes. 

_ No, _ he said with a shake of his head. When Dean persisted, Cas left them and went to the porch. He found his joints, he had two left, he lit up and sat down in the rocker. Oh yeah, the mellow was taking over, easing his headache and slowly taking away his failure. Someone came out after a few hits and Cas just ignored them. A gruff voice beat at his walls.

“Cas, listen to me, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I didn't understand your message.”

Cas turned slowly to look up at the older man.  _ Is he real?  _ Cas stubbed out his joint and carefully put it away. He was going to say something but nothing came out. He frowned, closing his mouth.

“What are you trying to say?” Bobby touched him on the shoulder.

Cas flinched then grabbed the hand, his eyes round with disbelief. He looked from the calloused hand to the face.  _ He is real _ . He grabbed the man's hand in his own bringing it to his face and heaved silent sobs.  _ Bobby is real. _ He wanted to be happy and rejoice, but he was too overwhelmed. 

“I fixed the boys,” the gruff man’s voice went softer. Bobby had squatted down beside Cas. Cas stared in disbelief holding his hand to his chest. “I found the ritual and reversed the spell. They'll be a bit unstable for a while but they'll be back to normal in a few days.”

Cas watched as Bobby pulled over a chair. No one had sat in that chair for months.

“They remember it all and they're mighty sorry. They know it'lll be awhile before you can forgive them-”

Cas stood, letting go of Bobby's hand, let the blanket just drape on his body. He stared in disbelief anew.  _ Forgive them? How could they forgive him?  _

Bobby stood and closed the blanket around Castiel naked body. “Let's go inside where it's warmer.” He guided the limping angel into the cabin. Cas saw Sam and Dean still sitting at the table.

_ Forgive.  _ Cas thought about it. He let the waves of the drug slide over him washing away the doubt and anxiety. He would deal with it later. Now he needed a drink. He broke away from Bobby and went upstairs. He could not find a bottle. 

_ Where are they hiding them?  _ Cas stomped back downstairs clutching the blanket to his now shivering body. He went back to the kitchen and started opening cabinets.

“What did you boys do? Is he a junkie and an alcoholic?”

“I didn't - I couldn't control it. It made perfect sense to me -”

“Nothing seemed wrong. Everything we did, we did for him.”

“You took away his  _ grace _ . You stole his voice, you damn idjits. You had sex, no damn it, you boys  _ raped  _ him. You held him up here for  _ months.” _ Bobby’s tone was hard. "How was any of that for him?"

“No we didn’t. We took care -”

“You put it like that -”

“Don't pull that crap with me boys.” Bobby’s expression was not buying their excuses.

“I feel guilty and not guilty at the same time.” Dean looked confused.

“Me too. It’s like what I did was wrong but it was right too. I know beating him and removing his voice was bad, but he seemed to enjoy-” Sam was confused but there was belief on his face.

Cas slammed down his hand on the table, halting his search for his alcohol. His face was rage and sorrow. He was angry and hurt. He grabbed the pen and paper sitting on the table and wrote. He threw the notepad to Dean, who sat dumbfounded at reading the shakily scrawled words aloud. 

‘I say no. I strugled. I want leave to sav you I contact bobby. I HURT CRY YOU RAP ME BECUSE I FAIL YOU TWO!’

Cas stormed out of the cabin into the cold. The blanket was not enough and he had no shoes, but he did not care. He walked out onto the porch and got his last dooby. He lit up then walked out into the yard, something he had not been able to do in months. He laughed at how simple it was. Just a few steps he had been denied for so long. He did not know what to do with himself. The drug smoothed out his anger and left him alone. He started walking and did not stop until his joint was but ashes. Cas stared at his burnt fingers and wept again.

Somehow he was in Bobby’s truck and they were going somewhere. He looked over and smiled at the old hunter. Cas reached over and touched the man. He was real. He came. He finally came. 

_ I knew you would come. _

Cas was so happy now. He could be redeemed. He could make it up to the Winchesters. He could be an angel again. He frowned and looked at his wrists. The tattoos were still there. His grace was still trapped. Defeated, Cas leaned his head back and fell asleep.

Cas woke blurry. He did not understand but he went with the old hunter as he pulled him along. Cas wrapped the blanket around him tighter against the cold. They were now in a place that was bright and white with too many people. A hospital. He listened as Bobby explained that he, Cas, had been treated poorly and needed medical help. He was mute but could still hear. He also explained that he was with the FBI and that no local authorities need to be called in, he was adamant.

“Cas, let these people help you,” his voice was gruffer than normal. There was a look in Bobby’s eyes that was sad, like he failed. But the angel was the one who failed, he was the one who let this happen. Cas wanted to tell Bobby, but his voice was gone and there was no paper. 

“I’m going to go check on the boys. The idjits are still under the weather.”

Cas shuddered at the thought. He wanted to help them but was so glad to be away from those Winchesters. His head hurt and his body was so tired. He went with the medical people. He moved when they told him to move, he watched as they took blood, gave him shots, administered tests. After a long time they let him lay down and sleep.


	11. Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel heals.

Castiel healed all his physical ailments in a flash of grace the moment he cut through one of the tattoos on his wrist. The overwhelming astonishment made him scream out, which caused all the windows in the house to burst out and every electrical appliance to explode. He blinked when Bobby and the Winchesters ran into the room. Someone, or all of them, started talking and he dropped the knife and flew away on freed wings.

Confused, Castiel climbed mountains, walked deserts, and contemplated everything. His mind was a humble of thoughts, memories, feelings, emotions, and he did not know how to deal. He had dark days where he flinched at memories, and he jumped at shadows. Terrifying nights where he cried uncontrollably and screamed at every sound. He berated himself at his lack of control. Things he should not be feeling he tried to crush under the weight and might of being an angel, sprang eternally back into his mind. He drank more than one liquor store dry chasing the numb.

Whenever Castiel found himself back near the Winchesters, he stayed in the forests surrounding the bunker. He listened to the birds, squirrels, and other wildlife as he strolled through the trees. He had shut down his angel radio as soon as it sparked to life, and outright ignored Dean and Sam's prayers, blocking their words, over the past months. He needed to be alone. He could not bring himself any closer. As soon as he heard one of their voices or the sound of the Impala he fled. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, Soldier of God, Warrior of Heaven, cowered from the brothers.

It was nearly a year later that a phone call brought Castiel to Bobby's. He was standing on the Bunda Cliffs on the coast of Australia overlooking the ocean. It was just after sunset and there was a wind whipping his trenchcoat around his body. He jumped when his phone rang and he hesitated answering, wondering why he still charged the thing, but he knew. 

"Hello, Bobby," his voice gruffer from overuse. He would constantly speak his thoughts whether or not anyone was around.

"Cas, where've you been? We've been trying to contact you for ages." The old man's harsh voice was oddly soothing in a familiar way.

"Eleven months, two weeks, three days, thirteen hours, and six minutes… twenty-three seconds," Castiel stated the time because he could not say anything else.

"If I wanted the exact time, I would have asked Sam. Where're you, boy?"

"I am hardly a boy, I am an an-gel," he faltered on the last word, not believing himself.

"I know that, ya idjit." His voice softened. "Get back here, we've been worried."

"You need not worry, I'm fine," he said quickly. Cas was not focused on the conversation, but on a small cabin thousands of miles away.

"Cut the crap, Cas." Bobby flared, yet concern colored his words.

Castiel flinched at the use of the nickname, still affected after all these months. 

"The boys want, oh hell, they need to talk to you." Bobby's gruff voice wavered.

"Oh," Cas said flatly, despite his stomach cramping and his palms becoming clammy. If he needed to breathe, he was sure he would be hyperventilating right now. His vision darkened and he stumbled nearly falling, not realizing he was backing up. Catching himself, Castiel cleared his throat and said dryly, "What do they need?"

"Dean, Sam… they want to talk about what happened. And I think you need to, too."

"I'm fine." Castiel squared his shoulders. "It is of no import."

"Damn it, boy, don't give me that crap. Ignoring it won't --" Bobby's exasperated voice struck a nerve.

_ No.  _ Castiel threw the phone as far as he could, which was a considerable distance. He stared at the crashing waves for an age then retrieved the device. After drying out the phone he dialed up the old hunter. He didn't give him a chance to speak. "I will come to you alone."

Moments later he stood outside Bobby's door. The wooden door was not what he was used to; normally he would just appear inside the house, but he needed time. A quick search proved the man was by himself. He knocked.

"Come in," Bobby stood back, keeping this distance.

"You want to talk," Castiel was stiff as always, yet guarded. He walked into the living room/library and stood.

"How have you been?" Bobby sounded stilted.

"I'm fine," Castiel answered looking everywhere but at the old hunter.

"Like hell," Bobby spat sounding more like himself, and went into the kitchen. He pulled out a beer, silently offered Castiel one, then sat at the table.

Castiel sat opposite, his back to the wall so as not to be caught unaware, and downed the beverage. As predicted, it was little better than water.

"I don't know what all happened, but this is what I do know." Bobby sipped his beer as he spoke. "The boys contacted me about that witch, and given the details she seemed like a run of the mill evil dabbler. You know, simple hexes, potions, and such. Hell, I said one of them could take her down."

"That was not my experience." Castiel injected. He sat stiffly waiting for more.

"Well, see, what I didn't know was that she was she had ties to this coven, She-Devils of DeVille. Yeah, stupid name, but they were powerful. Behind all that touristy shit, she was working some horrible magicks. She had bewitched over half the town's population and hexed some others. Anyway, what she had done, and this took me a while to cypher out, was she had been trying to perfect slavery, full body and soul, eternal damnation shit. Damn near done it when the boys broke in. But it wasn't until you smote her, killed her, you stopped the ritual. That broke the connection."

Bobby downed his beer and got up to get another. Castiel declined his offer. Bobby leaned against the sink.

"The thing is, and that was the part that took so long, you broke the witch connection but the spell had already been unleashed. It grabbed hold of the boys and tied them to the first person they came into contact with and that was you."

Castiel frowned, his voice grave. "I thought that was the case, some kind of corrupted curse."

"Something like that. She didn't get to finish, which was the critical part. It back lashed on them and used their minds to complete it."

"Sam and Dean's thoughts and emotions were tied into the spell?" Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his chair, memories threatening his composure. 

Bobby sat back down and leaned forward. "See that's the crux of it all. She damn near had the boys fully spelled, wrapping her will to theirs, then you come in and wreck it, kill her sorry ass. So the imperfect spell is skewed and has to find closure. Close the loop."

"Dean and Sam's minds supplied the final components." Castiel was not comforted by this revelation. He didn't notice his hands trembling in his lap.

"Sort of, but you have to realize, the spell amplified every emotion, not just loyalty and subservience. It spread instead of shutting down all other traits the witch would have suppressed. She would have shuttered everything she deemed unnecessary for her needs."

"They were trapped inside their own minds." Castiel's voice was quiet as he absorbed the information.

"Exactly. They were a slave to every impulse and urge, any logical thought was warped."

Castiel felt distraught. "I could not help them. No matter what I said, I could not break through." He hung his head, balling his hands into fists.

"Cas." Bobby stood causing Castiel to flinch back. Too many times his name and that action meant pain.

Bobby stopped and waited. He had always expected the angel to be okay, but in the days following his recovery, Bobby saw signs. 

"Castiel," Bobby started again, "the boys want to apologize. They told me they remember everything."

Castiel looked at the old hunter, frowning. "Apologize?" He stood as well. "I failed them. I was complacent. I was not quick enough to save them."

Bobby was looking at the angel with a strange expression on his face. "They kidnapped you."

Castiel started to pace. "I healed them, their physical bodies, and stayed with them because I felt something was wrong. I tried time and time again to get them to contact you. My words were ineffective and impotent, failing to impart the seriousness of the situation. I failed to keep them safe."

Bobby stood with his mouth gapping. He shook his head and hands as if erasing the angel's word. "No, no, no. You had no control over any of the situations. Hell, you were trapped just as much as them. More so, you were at their mercy."

Castiel faced Bobby, his face hard. "A predicament I would have never been in had I done my duty."

Bobby frowned, turned when the basement door opened.

Castiel froze when Sam and Dean entered the room. They could not have appeared out of thin air.  _ They were in the panic room where I couldn't detect them.  _ He stood still in the middle of the room, holding his non-existent breath.

Sam stepped forward. "Hey Cas."

The angel flinched and took a step back. He should not be feeling anything, especially not scared, but there he was trembling in their presence.

Sam stilled looking ashamed. He backed off and sat down at the table. Dean took his queue from his brother and sat.

Castiel fought with himself. He wanted to fly away but held himself in the room.  _ Get ahold of yourself, you cannot be hurt by them. Fave them.  _ He cleared his throat, his face and voice as bland as ever, "Hello Sam. Hello Dean."

"Cas," Dean began, stopping when he noticed the flinch. He started again. "Castiel, I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for my act-"

"No, Dean. You needn't apologize for something that was not your fault."

Sam leaned forward looking earnest. "But Castiel, not all of it was without fault. I should have liste-"

"No, Sam." Castiel was firm, his jaw set, his fists clenched tight at his sides. "I apologize to the both of you for I failed. I should have never let you both go into that battle alone."

"Damn it Cas," Dean's voice was angry, "listen."

Castiel ducked his head and backed up another step. Memories of the pain and humiliation swept over him.

"What we did was wrong, plain and simple. We had no right to do what we did to you. I remember watching through a fog as I said things and did things. Damn it all to hell." He turned to his brother and Bobby. "I can't do this shit."

Castiel felt the ghost of injuries flare on his body.  _ This shouldn't be happening. Nothing they can do now can touch me. _ He looked up to see Sam standing beside Dean. He gasped and backed up until he hit a wall. "Don't," he whispered.

Sam raised his hands and backed away, sitting back down. "No, no, Castiel, I'm not going to touch you. Damn it, I am so sorry. I can't believe the things I did to you. Shit, it was so crazy, like a fucking dream, but it was real." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Everything felt right and wrong at the same time. I wanted to protect you, yet I couldn't stop hurting you. I'm sorry. That seems so lame and inadequate, but I am truly sorry."

Castiel's vessel was thrumming with fight or flight. It was all he could do not to flee. He listened to the words, saw their souls and knew what they said was true.

"I am sorry." Dean was pleading with him. 

Castiel could not take it anymore. "How can you sit there and say those words?" He unclenched his hands and took a step towards them. "I failed you. I failed to keep you safe. I failed to get you help. I failed to get you to listen. I failed to break the spell." He looked at them with such sorrow, but saw nothing but sadness in return. He could never be forgiven for that.

"Damn it, no!" Dean stood, slamming his hand down onto the table. "It's not your fucking fault we got caught. It's not your fucking fault we kidnapped you. It was never, ever your fault for any of the heinous things we did to you. Cas, we did that, under a spell yes, but you're not to blame." He had been stepping closer with every statement until he was standing directly in front of the angel.

Castiel could feel his breath on his face. He saw the guilt and shame in his eyes. He looked into his soul. Dean was begging forgiveness as much as he himself was, yet would never forgive himself. He stepped back and gazed upon Sam, who was now standing beside Dean, and saw the same thing. He backed away. It was too much. Overwhelmed, he left.

In the middle of a desert, be it the Sahara or the Arctic, Casteil thought and forced himself to replay every moment of every day during his capture. He had come to terms with the fact that he was indeed captured. He raged against himself, battling his sense of duty with his realization that he had been systematically tortured, physically, sexually, and mentally. He had believed that once he regained his Grace that all these feelings would dissipate. He was wrong.

He replayed the Winchesters' words, Bobby's words. He searched the meanings and slowly let himself believe he was not at fault. Castiel waited while his mind untangled and his body stopped reacting. He stood waiting until the day his opened up and heard Dean's prayer.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel stood outside Bobby's, somewhere in the junkyard. "Hello, Sam."

The brothers were standing in the shade of some stacks of cars. It must be summer because they were sweating. He tilted his head at them, trying to puzzle it out when Dean spoke.

"How've you been?" The forced casualness was tiresome.

"I have been as I have always been. I'm fine."

"No." Sam said slowly. He fidgeted with his fingers.

Castiel stared. As before they yearned for his forgiveness, but held onto their guilt. He understood.

"I forgive you Sam. I forgive you Dean. Neither of you were in your right minds." His voice was even with a touch of warmth. He believed what he had just said.

"We don't deserve it," Dean said quietly.

Both smiled, yet the sadness remained. Dean stepped up to him, as if to hug him. He thought he was past it, but terror ripped through him. He backed away, trembling.

"I can't," he said, feeling like the failure he was. "I…" He looked at each in turn, fear flashed in his face before he schooled his features. Their hurt expressions cut Castiel deeply.

He could forgive, but he could not trust. Not yet.


End file.
